CHAPTER VII
We meet the Emperor of Austria. There is neither tea nor duels.
An early morning sun broke full through the wide windows of the Hofburg palace. From the heady lights bouncing so brilliantly, all the hall about the black-clad Hussar was gilt and glorious .The hard sole's of the proudly marching boots rang loud upon the 17th century hand-painted tiles. Count von Neipperg was still fastening on his sabre and sabretache but his purposeful stride did not falter. His twisted blond hair was a tad dishevelled for one summoned to an audience with the Emperor of Austria but as he'd been bidden to haste, the priorities were to completeness. A General must present himself properly. He might be chided for unkempt hair, but if he appeared without his badges of rank he'd be insulting his Emperor. As he did not know what had brought this early morning summons, he was going through a long list of possible ways that he might already have insulted his Sovereign.
He lifted his one eye to regard the man gliding toward him in slippered feet. Metternich. Neipperg took comfort in the state of disrepair that this normally fastidious minister was in. His wig was poorly seated and unpowdered. A night shirt was protruding from the tops of his trousers. His stockings were not even matched. Perhaps best of all, the statesman's mood on his retreat from the Emperor's rooms was agitated and anxious. If it had been something bad for Count von Neipperg then Prince von Metternich would have looked remarkably smug instead. The Count offered a cordially pleasant smile to the Prince and in return, surprisingly, received a distracted acknowledgement. Normally the man would have made a point of hiding his concerns and he was a master at such things. Normally. This morning he was nearly scurrying. Neipperg was much relieved.
Nearing the Emperor's private apartments, the Count noted that pages and footmen were hurrying in all directions and they were in great numbers. Outside the door there was a cluster of white clad gentlemen. Some were taking advantage of hallway chairs while others paced anxiously. These were more than simply generals. Prince von Schwarzenburg expanded grossly over the edges of an unfortunate chair. Generalfeldmarschall Heinrich Graf von Bellegarde, Commander of the Army of Italy, was there and engaged in speculation with the Archduke Karl. The Emperor's brother had been stripped of any command so his appearance here was startling. Not in a military uniform, the Baron Franz Hager was keeping to himself but staying close enough to keep an ear to the Archduke's conversation.
Field Marshall von Colleredo noticed Neipperg's advance and lay a smile out for him. "Good morning, General. We've stolen a march on you."
Neipperg responded with familiarity, "Well, Sir, always dutiful I, and not being assigned to your advance guard...."
Colloredo grinned cheerfully and finished the thought, "...felt it your duty to not be first. Sagely stated, General.". While the Field Marshall was still congratulating himself with a laugh Neipperg was sizing up the crowded corridor. The brightest luminaries in the Imperial army were waiting like children to be scolded by their father. They did not seem concerned though. Anxious and curious, yes. When the Archduke Charles turned his attention briefly toward Neipperg, it was not a pleasant expression. Rather than lingering though, he turned back to his conversation promptly before the Black Hussar had any opportunity to make a show of familiarity.
A page at the door recognized Neipperg. He made the display of walking the three paces to stand before him and saying quietly that "The Emperor will see you now." The corridor cluster fell silent and all eyes shot to the one-eyed man, the black amid the white. None voiced their indignity. None voiced any insult. Neipperg himself said nothing but followed the servant to the passage. The silence that he moved through was alive with hostility and wounded pride and he could sense a palpable relief when the page closed the door behind him from without.
Deep red coloured the upper walls while whites and golds bedecked the rest of the comfortable square room. The patterns and touches, proportions and details were masterfully orchestrated to proudly proclaim wealth, stature, and history. Antique chairs exactly matched the fabric colourings the walls where they were not broken by narrow, intimate windows. The chandelier was understated while still being hand crafted by the finest artisans in Europe.
Astonishingly, Francis I, Emperor of Austria was alone. The first thing that the solitude told the Count was that he was not going to be scolded for anything. The whole point of berations was the publicity of them and who was in on them. He was certain that he'd done nothing to earn himself any quiet reward but he could still hold out hope for that. Passing first through the throng of notables had been a positive start, to be sure.
Francis took in the appearance of the Black Hussar and then turned to face away, taking in the view of the long, bright shadows that the rising sun was casting over the courtyard of the palace. Emperor Francis I elicited pity in most men. Haggard, pale, thin, and aged well beyond his near fifty years, he was a man who poorly bore the defeats, disappointments, and failures of his life. His armies had been destroyed three times by Napoleon. Three times he had been humiliated and forced to surrender to that common soldier. Twice, the Corsican Ogre had driven him from his own palace bedchamber and taken it for himself. He had been forced to betray his former alliances by sending his armies into Russia at the French side. He had been obliged to surrender his own daughter to the upstart's bed. Formerly Emperor Francis II of the vast and ancient Holy Roman Empire, he was reduced to a second rate power and that thousand year reich that Charlemagne had created was gone.
Yes, his rebuilt armies had marched on Paris but it was the British, Russians, and Prussians who had won their days. Austria had but trudged behind and made up a mass of human flesh. Gone were the days of the finest cavalry in the world and the pride of the Austro-Hungarian Grenadiers. Now it was huge quantities of artillery that spoke for Francis on the battlefield.
Austria had gone to war twenty years before to bring the French revolutionaries to heel and they had finally won. They'd put that insipid, stupid bourbon King back on the throne of France and now he was acting as though the Ancient Regime had never fallen. Was nothing learned from the death of a million of his subject's? Francis had given his life's work to the cause of the Hapsburgs and Bourbons. He'd lost many family and friends in these seemingly endless wars to maintain the validity of the rule of Europe and now, here at the end of it all, was it proving to have been an unjust war? No, Francis could not consider that. The corpses of his countrymen whispered accusations in his every dream and he must not fail them. The fight must continue and the rule of law, the rule of tradition must be adhered to.
Neipperg shifted his weight just enough to illicit a quiet clattering from his sabre's sheath.
The Emperor spoke without facing the Count, though perhaps he watched him in the reflection of the glass. "Napoleon has escaped his prison." he said with shades of portent.
Neipperg knew that a suitable reaction was required. Did the Emperor want him to be shocked? Angry? Vengeful? Probably defiant. Yes, this would be an opportunity to demonstrate loyalty and determination.
"We will hound him to the ends of the earth and seas, Your Majesty."
With eyelids stretched, Francis half turned for effect and countered, "You will do no such thing. We have five hundred thousand soldiers throwing on their boots to do just that. You, Count, are the one who will stay as far from him as possible."
Neipperg understood fully what was intended, saying, "I don't understand."
Francis watched some couriers taking to horse in the courtyard below. "As soon as I am done with you, We will be informing the Army that we are at war with that man. Your command though, General, will continue to be that brigade that is dearest to our heart: Marie Louise and her son." Neipperg acknowledged the command and the Emperor continued with a question." Do you know your role in all of this, General?"
"I am to ensure that your daughter, the Arch-Duchess does not regain the title Empress of France."
The Emperor nodded to himself a good many times and then finally turned to face the Count fully. He did not gesture in any way as he explained, "Your mission remains what it has been since I first gave it to you. Watch over her. Protect her. Keep her distracted from her husband." Neipperg waited and Francis finished with that vaguely precise pronouncement that the Hussar knew was coming. "...with whatever means necessary."
"It has been my duty to obey and I shall continue to do so, Your Majesty." It would not have done to say how pleasurable he had been finding the assignment. "Does she yet know?"
The Emperor shook his head. "You are the first that I am telling. I learned it from Prince Metternich not thirty minutes before."
Neipperg knew that this was not an honour being bestowed upon him. The Emperor's motives were clear to him. The manner in which Marie Louise would be told of this news was very important. Was this her beloved husband heroically coming to reclaim his young wife son or was this her father's diabolical tormentor looking to destroy the lives of every God-fearing soul in Christendom?
"I will..." said Count Neipperg "...ensure that she receives this news promptly and properly. She must not hear it from any other."
"Yes. Tell Marie-Louise but ensure that she does not let this put hope into her heart."
"I can do better. I can give her fear." This was said solemnly and without malicious emphasis.
The Emperor appeared delighted by this idea “Tell me her reaction.”
"You shall receive verbose, descriptive reports, Your Majesty."
This reminded Francis. "Schulmeister may already be on the move. Have your agents be alert for his agents."
“I have no agents. I am no Baron Hager. I am possessed of many friends though and I will set them to the cause. We will, I assure you, be alert to all manner of French intrigues and ambitions.”
“How do you do what it is that you do?” asked the Emperor, apparently taking up a fresh topic.
Neipperg gave thought to the gang of Generals waiting without the door but did not give their impatient plight much weight. He would take the opportunity to banter with this powerful man. “What do you think I do?”
“You turn people. You make good, loyal people betray their closest friends and relations. You turned two of Napoleon’s Marshals, that he had made Kings, and brought them to war against him.”
“Ah.” was Neipperg's dull remark.
“How do you do it? Do you find their weaknesses?”
The Black Hussar began to explain, “I find their strength. I find the one thing that they care most about, that they are most proud of, and then let them use it. Bernadotte. Napoleon’s Lancelot. I turned Marshal Bernadotte after he was made King of Sweden. When Napoleon abandoned his fiancée and set her up with Bernadotte, it would have been dishonourable if the Marshal had not loved Desiree Clery wholly. It would have been dishonourable if Desiree had not loved Bernadotte more than she loved Napoleon. I convinced him that the same held true for Sweden. His honour required that he do what was best for Sweden, not for Napoleon. For King Murat it was courage. It had to be pointed out how following Napoleon’s star was profitable, loyal, and perhaps prudent, but it was not courageous. A brave man will forge his own destiny. A brave man makes hard decisions, not just follow blindly. It is cowardly to fail when but for courage you could achieve greatness. Resignation to Fate is the coward's course. His pride was piqued also, of course, by the idea that he had been bought by the crown, the baton, and the hand of Napoleon's sister. Murat is not the kind of man that likes to think himself a paid servant."
"What would you use against me?"
Neipperg was taken aback at this question. This might take some footwork. "There is no 'against'. I am not the foe. I am not a threat. All I do is point out what the true threat is. If Napoleon had broken Bernadotte’s honour, Napoleon would have beaten him. Sweden’s king was too blind to see it without my help. Murat would have seen himself a failure, for all his wealth and power, if any could consider him a coward. Perhaps losing an eye gave me insight."
Francis would not let his subject off so easily though, "What is my strength then, Count?"
"Perception." was the ready reply, Your Majesty knows where his enemies are. You know in your heart of hearts who to trust and who conspires against the realm. There is none so perceptive as Your Majesty."
"And how would you use that against me?" enquired His Most Perceptiveness.
"Your Majesty's power is the one that I cannot use and I would not if I could... but you already know that. No, I can never have power over Your Majesty."
"You are a flatterer."
"You see, Your Majesty."
"And I yet have both eyes!" exclaimed the Emperor with an emphatic gesture of triumph.
The Black Hussar did not dare a glance toward the closed door but it took his thoughts briefly.
Francis continued with yet another almost incongruous idea. “The Congress of Vienna is confirming Parma for Marie Louise”.
To be fair, the Congress was on everyone's mind. Here were all the victors of the wars, gathered in this very city, and negotiating the map and destiny of Europe. The King of Prussia and the Tsar of all the Russias were likely asleep still just down the hall. All the Great Powers had sent their finest ministers and notables to this peace conference. Even Bourbon France was represented as here as a victor, represented by the artful Talleyrand. There had never before been such a council of diplomats and monarchs bent to the task of rebuilding a continent toward a peaceful and secure future.
“I know." answered the Count, "I was at the congress ensuring that it happened. I have friends in Parma. I should be hearing from them soon. Of course, Marie Louise has been anxious to travel to Parma but we can all see now what a calamity it would have been if I had allowed her to believe it an available course."
"What, in your opinion, Count," began the Emperor then, "Is my dear daughter's strength?"
Neipperg knew this answer too well, "Duty, Your Majesty. You raised that child to be a woman that simply delights in doing her duty... to her nation and her father."
"To her husband?" asked the father nervously.